


Gone, I'm Gone

by CabbageCommander



Series: Something Clever About Using Musicals as Prompts [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catra (She-Ra)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-08 02:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabbageCommander/pseuds/CabbageCommander
Summary: Go ahead and lay the blameTalk of virtue, talk of sinWouldn't you have done the same?In her shoes, in her skinYou can have your principlesWhen you've got a bellyfulBut hunger has a way with youThere's no telling what you're gonna do





	Gone, I'm Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Me to me: How about we write a scene for once with like a distinguishable setting and like actions and stuff?  
Me to me: Counterpoint, let’s write more internal Catra conflict angst with no discernable scene until the end?  
Me: … You right.  
Me: Also, let’s get up at 4am and do laundry and write then!  
Me: Wait, what?  
On with the show!

_Go ahead and lay the blame_

_Talk of virtue, talk of sin_

_Wouldn't you have done the same?_

_In her shoes, in her skin_

_You can have your principles_

_When you've got a bellyful_

_But hunger has a way with you_

_There's no telling what you're gonna do_

_(“Gone, I’m Gone” **Hadestown**)_

There’s a burning hollow in her chest.

It crawls, it claws up her throat like fire. Like bile. Like the nausea of eating crumbs on an empty stomach, after days with too little to eat too late.

_You don’t **have** to go back._

Her ears twitch.

Where else would she go? There’s nothing in the wastes but bones and skeletal, hollow people who may as well be bones. Just as empty and longing as she is. Hungry as hyenas following the strongest lion to their next meal and abandoning it to be claimed by the desert sands as soon as there are no scraps left. It slates her thirst for a time but not her hunger.

_You don’t **have** to do this._

Her ears flatten to her skull.

What else would she do? Succumb to the hunger? Starve to death?

How else could she quell the unending craving caving in her chest? Nothing stops it. The biting and the burning and the blinding, bitter emptiness.

_You don’t._

She doesn’t _care_ about right or wrong. She has _**never** cared_. You can’t care about right and wrong when the pit of your stomach screams, empty and unfulfilled. Disorienting, distracting, demanding. 

_You don’t._

_THEY don’t_ **get it**.

Her fangs tear ribbons from the skin inside her cheek as she holds back screams. It hurts. _It fucking HURTS_. Like a ball of needles in her stomach, in her chest. Like electricity spark, spark, sparking, static beneath her skin, raising her fur.

_They_ don’t get it because _they_ aren’t **starving**. She is.

She always has been, hungry.

Blindly following her stomach, longing.

She _wants_, and she is **_tired_ **of _wanting_. She can’t remember when there wasn’t the pit in her gut, empty and insatiable and _hungry_. She can’t think straight with the gnawing, the _gnawing_,the **_gnawing_** in her belly. It is maddening, and maybe…

Maybe if she swallows the world she will finally, _finally_ be full.

She pulls the lever. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Hadestown" is a beast of a musical that I just stumbled upon. It is fucking great. And I’ll probably write more stuff to the music from it.  
(Also fun fact: Spotted Hyenas hunt for themselves and it's often Lions that steal food from them not the other way around)


End file.
